


Chaotic Symmetry

by YearoftheWolf



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Graphic Description, Love/Hate, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Rating May Change, Romance, Soulmates, Werewolf Culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearoftheWolf/pseuds/YearoftheWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accalia Lyall was poised to become Alpha, until a mysterious enemy slaughters them all in her absence. In order to find her clan's killer and avenge them, she unwillingly becomes a meister of the DWMA and takes on a weapon partner. But not all is as safe as it seems in town; Death the Kid wants to kill her the second she walks into the city, and why is the wolf in her acting so strangely?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's so much on werewolf lore that exists already that's next to impossible to make one assertion in a story that doesn't contradict another. So, to set some things straight, here are the laws of lycanthropy in this universe. One: Lycanthropes are called Lykoi Warriors, or Lykoi for short. It's actually a name I took (with permission) from one of my all time favorite fanfictions. The term werewolf is actually derogatory; think of what it has become nowadays-Twilight anyone? Two: it is possible to go from human to full canine. I know many theories on lycanthropy stop at the anthro-wolf because the idea of the human to wolf transformation is too traumatic on the system, but I mean, come on, you've got to live on the edge a little. Three: In the mind of each Lykoi, there is a wolf aspect and a human aspect. In most situations they balance each other out, but if the Lykoi is too stressed or is in danger, the wolf aspect will take charge and dominate. The eyes will darken to the color of a natural wolf (usually a brownish orange), and the wolf will fight to protect itself.

Accalia Lyall stood stock still; head held level, breath even, she scarcely dared to breathe. In all aspects except one she resembled a cornered animal; her eyes, though, held no fear. And it was good that they didn't, as the pack of wolves that had assembled in a loose semicircle behind her would have torn her to shreds. But, perhaps not before their Alpha, standing before them, staring her down, daring her to show any signs of weakness. Accalia would not be fearful, for she had known this time was coming, had known it for years, and was ready to face it. As the had sun crested over the peak of the mountain,which was her home that morning, she prepared for this moment, ridding herself of all doubts, fears, and worries. As the sun had reached its peak in the sky, she had left her house, leaving the small, leather-bound journal she always toted in her back pocket in a side drawer near her bed, pulling the door of the cabin shut and heading out to the clearing where she knew they'd be waiting.

All of the arrangements for this had been made weeks previous; the location for her trial, the amount of time that was to be given for said trial, and when she was to be considered dead had she not returned. Accalia knew the stakes. She also knew that she, more than anyone else, had something to prove; she had to wipe out the stain her father had cast upon her family, had marked upon the entire pack, and this was the first step in doing so. She had to push herself harder, go farther, become stronger, so that no one would dare challenge her authority. She had to look the the future so no one would dare remark on her past.

And here she was. Her clothes lay in a pile, messy where they had been dropped carelessly; she had never been one for neatness and order, and she was sure they'd be taken care of anyway. But no, she mustn't focus on the little pile clothes, not when the Alpha is staring at her, waiting. Accalia remembers she's supposed to bow, and so she does. The Alpha contemplates the young girl, debating something for a few long moments. The entire ring of wolves waits with baited breath-will there be an attack this time? But no, the moment passes and Nishoba Lyall, Alpha of the Stone River wolf pack, speaks.

"Accalia Lyall, young pup of this pack," Accalia raises her head, fighting down the wolf inside that bristles at being addressed as a pup. Nashoba continues. "We can no longer allow you to be a drain on our resources. Winters are long, and we have many mouths to feed. An overgrown pup is not welcome; you must prove yourself to stay. If you cannot survive on your own, then you are no good to us. Prove to us that you are useful, then you may return. The location of your trial has been chosen, and a route has been selected." Even though Nashoba knew the increased risk of accident befalling her daughter, her face was a stone mask; she did not show emotion as she addressed the young girl before her. She could not.

Accalia continued to stand and say nothing; all of this was a formality, she wasn't hearing anything she didn't already know, and she was itching to go, buring with the desire to prove herself to her packmates. She could feel the burn of their stares on her back and sides, although she felt no shame in her nudity. She had run around naked with these same people since before she could remember, since before even the fuzziest memories with their warm-tinged glow had formed; what was there to be embarrassed about? Even though she wasn't in wolfskin, she thought she could tell a few of them apart, at least those she was especially close to. She could feel the triplets, anxious to get back to roughhousing but held into submission by her mother's iron will. Accalia chuckled mentally as she remembered when she was little and she had to suffer the stern gaze that rendered her silent. Beside the triplets was Kowan, the babysitter of the pack. He had always told the best stories, and she still needed to learn how to make those marshmallow brownies of his. And all the way over on the far left, just at the edge of her periphery, was Himina. Himina was the herbalist, a poor tempered young woman who had Marie Antoinette's Syndrome that gave her a shock of white hair at only 23. Even though most of the other pack gave her a wide berth on the best of days, Accalia couldn't help but enjoy the mental squabbles they got into; Himina kept her on her toes.

"Are you ready?" Nashoba asked, taking Accalia's silence for acceptance. She nodded and took a single breath in, preparing herself for her world to change.

She felt it in her hands and feet first, a tingling sensation that shot up her arms and legs as her fingers and toes began to melt and fold in on themselves. As her arms and legs began to thin and elongate, her spine contorted, shifting from the upright shape of a human to that of the four-legged wolf. Her face stretched, her mouth pulling forward into a muzzle, her teeth sharpening into points. Her ears rose on her skull as fur sprouted all across her flesh, blanketing her in a silvery white coat that became darker as it reached toward her spine. As she finished her transformation, she shook herself from nose tip to tail, much like she was shaking off water.

"Go," was all Nashoba said to dismiss her before the Alpha herself turned and left the clearing to attend to other matters; her beta slipped from the horseshoe behind Accalia and followed, still in wolfskin. The others waited, and Accalia could feel all of their minds against hers, wishing her good luck, pressing comforting thoughts against her mind, hoping for her safe journey and quick return. As she passed through the crowd of bodies, she could feel them, her pack and family, in mind and body, with her. Even though she would leave them for a time, she would return with the skills to better lead them.

And with a final step, she was finally out of the crush of bodies, free and clear and utterly alone. Unable to bear the loneliness of body with the sense of accompaniment of mind, she severed the mental connection she inherently shared with her pack, and was, for the first time in her life, truly alone in the world. The feeling of staring into the void, being alone with one's own soul, was so immensely fear inducing that Accalia bolted, hurdling headlong down the path that she'd run hundreds of times before, though this time she deviated and kept heading south. She ran for days, stopping only for water, only the fear of the emptiness in her mind giving her the energy to continue putting one paw in front of the other. The morning of the third day, when she saw the sun shining over the twisting river that marked her destination, Accalia could do little more than take a gulp from the river, find a small copse of trees, and drop down, losing all consciousness and falling blissfully unaware of the emptiness in her head.

When she woke up, Accalia was aware of three things, all in a confusing order of jumbled chaos that just made it harder to focus. One, she was starving. Her stomach was actively staging a coup, and she could hear the sounds of rebellion right now. Two, she was parched; the quick gulp she managed to grab before she collapsed wasn't enough to slake her thirst, and her dehydration came with a splitting headache. She wasn't sure whether to count that as one thing together, or two separate evils, but she decided she had enough on her plate as it was, and chalked it up to one pain in the ass. The third was the complete and total radio silence in her head. Even now, on the afternoon of day four of the mute button being pressed, Accalia couldn't help but feel like there was an air of wrongness surrounding her; when there wasn't a flow of information coming from others, it was like she was an island, adrift in the void.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of both the negative thoughts and the echoing silence, although all she managed to do was worsen the headache and add a spinning tilt to the world.

That's it, she decided, I have to hunt, or none of this is gonna matter. I'm gonna end up dead of starvation and that'll be the end of it. After standing up and drinking her fill, Accalia swept the area for a suitable meal; most of the game had returned since her arrival, and she had her pickings among a variety of game and fowl. She settled on a yellow-bellied marmot that had been too focused on getting its own dinner to notice her approach. The rodent sated her, and she realized with a start that this was her first kill that she could attribute to herself and only herself. The young wolf held herself a little higher as she walked back to the copse of trees she had first settled in, puffed up with pride.

The sun continued its path across the sky, dropping below the horizon only to be replaced by the moon on the opposite edge of the sky. Accalia watched all this from her position in the shade, observing the meadow by the river with interest. Any time she would shift her position, all of the animals in the area would scatter and flee, hushing the field into the silence of a nearby predator. But if she could remember to keep still, she was privy to the goings on of the natural world that even her pack didn't see. And when day changed to night, she saw the diurnal become nocturnal, bats and owls replacing larks and sparrows, fireflies lighting up the grass like lanterns, and coyote howling in the distance, keeping their distance, at least for the moment.

Though she had slept for more than an entire day, Accalia still felt the inexorable pull of sleep, and soon succumbed, laying her head on the soft grass and letting the sounds of the night lull her to sleep. She slept the entire night as the stars turned overhead, paying no heed to the dangers of the predators' who she had angered by wandering into their territory unwittingly. They held their rage though; even a long wolf was a worthy adversary, and they would wait until the perfect opportunity presented itself to attack.

Accalia woke the next morning, well rested and pleased that she was already a third of the way done with her trial. She decided to congratulate herself with a jog around the meadow she had set up a temporary home in, to familiarize herself with the territory as well as to stave off boredom. The nearly 35 acre field would have stymied a human, but as a Lykoi Warrior, she didn't even break a sweat as she crossed the land, easily following the rises and dips, until a strange, bitter scent caused her to stop dead in her tracks. She studied it carefully, and thought back to her lessons in tracking and scenting. It was definitely feline, and most certainly big, but what…

A snarl alerted her to what the creature was before her mind could finish processing what it could be. A mountain lion jumped from its cover in the brush, sinking its claws into Accalia's flank and its teeth into the top of her neck, attempting to paralyze her. Mentally cursing herself for allowing it to get downwind of her, Accalia allowed the wolf portion of her mind to take over; it was better equipped for this fight, and it was the best chance she had at the moment for surviving.

She thrashed, twisting her body and throwing herself on the ground to dislodge the mountain lion. The cat held fast, removing its mouth to snarl at her. Accalia growled back, her eyes dark cognac, all traces of humanity gone. The mountain lion loosened one claw to swipe at her face, and Accalia took that opportunity to twist, sending the cat sprawling. As soon as it was off of her, the mountain lion noticed its distinct lack of advantage and tried to flee, but its element of surprise was lost. Accalia overtook it in an instant and crushed its throat, killing it with sheer force.

Bruised and bloody, the wolf stood over the corpse of her adversary and howled her victory, letting her voice roll over the field for miles. She dared anyone in the area to challenge her, to try to stop her. But eventually her howl died down and ice blue replaced cognac. Accalia, once again in full possession of her human faculties, took stock of herself. The fight, although it hadn't taken more than a few minutes, had left her utterly drained. She was bleeding heavily. If she didn't stop the bleeding, she was liable to pass out. The only positive thing to come out of it was that she didn't have to worry about hunting again, so long as she could manage to carry the mountain lion back to the copse of trees she had made her temporary home. But first, the bleeding. Accalia turned inward and focused, bringing the image of fingers and toes to mind. She began to change back, slowly at first, and then all at once until there was no longer a wolf, but only a naked girl on the edge of a field. Her bleeding had stopped; the change of form had healed the serious of the wounds, but a nasty bruise had remained in their place. Heaving a deep sigh, Accalia resigned herself to change again and became the wolf once more, dragging the corpse of the mountain lion back to the copse of trees.

The third day passed without incident, though Accalia did little to cause incident in the first place. She scarcely left her makeshift den, and only did so to relieve herself or to drink. She was still sore and had no desire to aggravate her injuries when she had a three day journey back to her pack.

When she left, she was happy to do so, joy at the prospect of returning to her family and pack keeping her steps light and her pace fast even though her flanks ached. Her journey was slower than when she traveled away in her mad flight of fear, she wasn't running in sheer panic, so she remembered the little things like resting and drinking. Still, near the end of the second day, her pace increased, and Accalia seemed to run like a wolf possessed again. This time though, she couldn't place what motivated her to move so quickly; but she knew she needed to hurry. The trail became familiar on the afternoon of the third day, and Accalia was grateful to be home, even if exhaustion of mind and body tugged her to slow down. She put on a burst of speed and broke through the trees, only to stop short.

There, in the clearing before her, assaulting her eyes and nose, were the signs of slaughter. Everywhere she looked there was blood and gore and bodies. She shook in horror. This was just her mind playing tricks on her. This couldn't be right. She took a step forward, but froze when she put a paw down and heard a wet squelch. She refused to look down and identify what she had stepped in.

Still shaking, Accalia partially transformed, still wolf enough to fight, but human enough to speak; she called this her anthro-wolf, but most of the others called this unnatural. "Hello?" she cried out, her voice rough and deep. "Please!"

"Matteo, Kinra, Eve?" she called out the little triplets, refusing to believe the little bodies she passed were them. "Kowan! This isn't funny." That the bigger body sprawled out in front of them wasn't his. "Himina?" That the shock of white hair that couldn't possibly be anyone else's wasn't lying on the ground, dyed red. Each of the bodies she passed had a hole punched through the sternum, as though something was removed.

Accalia was barely holding it together, keeping her wolf from taking over and ruling her mind, taking revenge for her, until she opened the door to her family home and saw her Alpha, her mother, with two young pups behind her, all three slaughtered. Accalia broke, her mind fracturing. Her wolf half stepped in, taking control of the situation; ice blue back to cognac and unstable human into logical wolf. Whoever did this would have to die, simple as that. Speaking of, the wolf could smell the scent of steel and human flesh approaching, foolish enough to do so downwind. You think you can slaughter my pack, and then finish me off? The wolf though angrily. There is only one of us who will make it out of here; I will survive.


	2. Chapter 2

“Meister Maka Albarn and her partner to the Death Room,” a masculine voice rang out through the school’s intercom, cutting through Sid’s lecture in the Crescent Moon classroom. The rather burly man looked up from his diagram on the chalkboard and nodded to the pair, dismissing them, and continued on with his lesson. Maka huffed softly, pouting. She hated it when her Papa called her out of class, even if it was for official business.   
She turned to Tsubaki. “Can you finish taking notes for me?” she asked the other girl quietly. Tsubaki nodded and smiled, happy to help her friend. Maka picked up her things and hurried down the steps as the lecture continued and walked past Soul, who was slouched against the door, holding it open, and out into the hall.  
Soul Eater Evans had to jog briskly to keep up with his meister’s brisk pace, though once he caught up to her he relaxed his posture to appear as though he wasn’t phased; being outpaced wouldn't be cool at all. “What’s up with your dad refusing to say my name?” he mused aloud, voicing his thoughts.  
Maka cocked her head, looking over at him. “Who knows why Papa does anything?” there was a note of bitterness to her words, and Soul had crossed this minefield enough to know to leave well enough alone. The rest of the short walk to the Death Room was spent in relative silence, with only the occasional chatter of students passing by in the halls to break the quiet. The pair walked down the guillotine lined path that lead into the central chamber where Lord Death stood, waiting for them with a more somber disposition than usual.  
“Good morning Lord Death.” Maka bowed, pigtails swinging forward as she dipped her head. Soul nodded his greeting, much to Maka’s annoyance but before she could yell, Lord Death was already speaking.  
“Soul, Maka, I have an assignment for you.” The Reaper launched right into the discussion, his usual boisterous and jovial nature somewhat subdued; Maka perked up at the mention of a special assignment from Lord Death himself and didn’t note the change. “In Southern Montana, there has been a spike in disturbing soul wavelengths that have been reported. We cannot find anything in any of the archives that would explain the types of wavelengths we have been sensing, nor why they are acting so strangely. You are one of our best young weapon/meister pairs, please go investigate the cause of all of this for me, ok?” By the end of his speech, Lord Death’s tone had seemed lose a bit of the seriousness and return to its usual levity, and he flashed the two a peace sign. Maka was flushing bright pink at being called one of the best young meisters, and even Soul was trying to maintain his cool; they didn’t notice Lord Death’s seriousness, or if they did, they only chalked it up to his usual eccentricities.  
“Of course, Lord Death. We can leave immediately,” Maka spoke for the pair, as she usually did; Soul didn't appear to mind.  
“Good, good!” the Reaper clapped his hands together and bounced up as though his entire form was just a robe draped over a spring. “I’m glad that’s your attitude, because you’re set to leave in about 15 minutes from one of the mirrors in the missions office. I’ll have your absences cleared with the rest of your classes today, so don't worry.” Lord Death turned away from the pair, evidently done with his audience with them  
“You kids better hurry up,” Lord Death called back to them, “You don’t want to miss your mirror.”  
Maka straightened, determined to live up to Lord Death’s praise.  
“Of course not, sir!” she replied, nearly dragging Soul out by his arm.  
“Ow! Hey, watch it, Maka! Cut it out!” Soul’s protests could be heard as the two disappeared back down the guillotine lined hallway, leaving the Reaper alone to stare blankly into the mirror.   
As soon as he was certain the meister and weapon were well on their way across the school, Lord Death began chanting in a long forgotten language, gesturing to the mirror. The reflective glass shimmered and swirled, changing to show a rather rustic foyer. This was the closest mirror that Lord Death could find to the epicenter of the strange soul waves, but it didn't give him much of a vantage point of to what was happening.   
Suddenly, the front door slammed open and two frightened children rushed in, ushered through by a maimed older woman, her eyes wild. The two children cowered back into a corner, whimpering and shaking in fright. None of them saw him. The spell he had used to observe the area was such that only he could see out; they could not see in. This meant that he was privy though when a dark shape, too looming and twisted to be human, blocked out the light streaming in from the door and stepped inside. The petite form was silhouetted by the bright sunlight outside, but the blood dripping from their hands and the mass looming above their shoulders mitigated any assumptions that they may be an easy opponent. The woman stepped forward, drawing the attention of the creature standing in the doorway.  
“Leave the pups out of this,” the woman commanded, breath labored from the slash wound in her side.   
The figure in the doorway stepped forward, but it no longer had the bulging mass growing out of its shoulder blades; instead, in their hand was grasped a long hand and a half sword, the hilt studded in spikes. The woman shifted her stance but held firm; to back down now would not only cost her own life, but the lives of the pups behind her as well. Without giving the creature in front of her the chance to react, she leapt forward, transforming partially so that her teeth were sharp and strong enough to break through bone. As she leapt toward the jugular, her opponent brought the sword up in a low arc, cutting into her shoulder and knocking her off course and into a wall. Behind her, the pups whined, terrified, but there was nothing she could do. She was bleeding out, beaten. Her pack lay beyond the door, slaughtered like animals. Her opponent closed the distance and raised the sword, plunging it deep into her sternum.  
Lord Death watched as the figure fed the sword the lycanthrope soul, and then moved on and quickly slaughtered the children and fed it their souls too. He turned from the mirror, disturbed, and ended the connection.  
“Oh dear,” he quietly mused to himself, “perhaps I should have sent a two or three-star meister-weapon to look into this. I didn’t think there would be conflict.”   
Across and down the halls of the DWMA, Maka was still dragging Soul, though her exuberance had lessened and her grip had become looser as they traveled. When Auntie’s window for missions had finally come into view, Maka picked up her pace again, still holding tightly to Soul’s hand, half dragging him behind her in her haste. When the pair reached the front of the little window, they stopped and bowed respectfully to the rather short woman sitting behind the counter.  
“Hello Auntie,” Maka bowed, smiling at the grandmother figure of the school. Soul waved his hand in recognition, but even he had a small smile on his face.  
“Hello dear,” the older woman replied. “I hear Lord Death has a special extracurricular assignment planned for you?”  
Maka nodded, a smile still on her face. “Yep! Something about unknown soul waves up in the Northern U.S. that he wanted us to look into.”  
Auntie hmmmed as she rifled through her files, looking for the correct form. She pulled out a simple sheet of paper and slid the form to the pair, handing them a pen. “I just need the usual. Initial and sign like normal, then you can come through to the back where we have one of the personal transport mirrors already set up for you to go.”  
Soul quickly scratched his name out while Maka took slightly longer to make sure her signature looked neat, and then the two of them pushed through an unassuming door just off the side of the little window and into the back, where Auntie had already hopped off of her chair and was waiting to lead them to the correct mirror.  
The little woman strode to the back with Maka and Soul in tow, weaving through full to bursting file cabinets and the looming shapes of mirrors with sheets thrown over them, waiting for use. The trio made their way to the back of the office space, where any of the noises floating in from the halls were muffled completely by the thick stacks of paperwork and student files. Standing near the center of the back was a full-length mirror, large enough for two or three people to step through simultaneously. The mirror didn’t reflect the weapon and meister pair and their escort; instead it undulated softly, a rather rustic looking grand hall greeting them from beneath the pulsing glass.  
“One of Shibusen’s Northern outposts,” Auntie explained briefly, not bothering to glance back at either Maka or Soul. “It’ll be about a four-mile hike from there to your destination. It’s the closest we could safely place you to the anomaly.”   
Soul grunted his understanding while Maka nodded, stepping forward and placing her hand flush against the mirror as she had done on so many extracurricular trips before. The mirror stopped its shifting and held the image of the grand hall steady while Maka looked back at her partner.  
“The portal is open. Ready, Soul?”  
The scythe flashed his infamous shark-toothed grin as he stepped up beside his meister. “It wouldn't be very cool of us to keep Lord Death waiting on the results of whatever the hell this is, right?”  
And with that, the two plunged through the mirror’s surface, the cold chill of Reaper magic surrounding them for only a moment before they breached the other side, stepping across and into the grand yet homely front room, only to find it vacant.  
“Huh,” Maka wondered aloud, “I wonder if everyone else is out on missions…”   
Soul just shrugged. “Not our problem. We gotta get moving if we’re gonna make it to the source of those waves at any reasonable time. Come on, tiny tits.” Soul ducked and dashed out through what he presumed to be the front doors-they were large and sturdy looking after all- to avoid a leather-bound hardback that Maka had pulled from who knows where, with the angry girl hot on his heels. Angry shouts and teasing laughs cut short by startled cries of indignation and pain echoed through the deepening forest, bouncing off the trees only to be absorbed into the soft pine litter and misty air. Soul always managed to keep a slight lead on his meister, enough to give himself the time to dodge one of her flying Maka Chops, but never far enough away that he couldn't transform in a flash if danger arose.  
He was right to give in to his protective nature, as he soon discovered. The jog had flown by in their lighthearted chase, and although the uneven terrain had slowed them somewhat, it had still taken them a little under an hour to reach the edge of the soul disturbance.  
Maka slowed as she felt the uncomfortable slide of soul taint brush against her awareness. She shuddered as she realized that if she wasn’t even using her Soul Perception and the disturbance was this strong, how powerful it must be at the epicenter. Soul, who lacked any sort of sixth sense, turned back to his meister when he noticed her footsteps no longer pounded behind him. The second he caught the look on her face, something between fear, disgust, and sadness, he willed himself to transform, falling with familiarity into Maka’s grasp. She spun him around once, holding his stabilizing weight to center herself in this chaos.  
She could feel his soul probe hers, asking wordlessly if she was alright. Maka sent back a short affirmative before she continued on, sometimes relying on Soul when the disturbance became too much for her to process, other times trying to puzzle out what could have caused it on her own.  
As they reached a clearing in the dense foliage, Maka’s heart dropped through the bottom of her shoes, while her stomach fought valiantly to exit out of her mouth. Even Soul, reflected in the blade of his scythe form, looked horrified at the carnage they had come across. The bodies were strewn everywhere, limbs bent at awkward angles where their owners had been flung back. The states of each of the people, neither meister or weapon were quite sure what exactly to classify them as, varied from form to form; some of the bodies were completely human, others looked like some sort of bizarre fusion between a dog and man. And still other bodies were strewn about, the bodies of large dogs, sharing the same glaring characteristic as all of the others; the large hole in their sternum, with jagged bits of flesh first piercing inward, then exploding outward.  
Maka felt her body’s urge to retch, to empty itself of the early breakfast she consumed, but she tramped it down and cautiously moved forward, eyes scanning for any movement that could signal the return of whatever had done this-if it had even left. Maka gulped and shivered but pressed on, stepping lightly over the bodies that lay in dark pools of blood; the carnage seemed to intensify towards a small grouping of buildings, and so that was were Maka set her path. Over and around the corpses she trod, wincing and flinching every time she misplaced a step and a bone cracked underfoot, until she was finally at what looked like the very worst of things. The cabin itself looked rather unscathed; there were no bloodstains on its walls or porch, nor were there any bodies in the immediate vicinity. But still, Maka could feel the wretchedness that emanated off of the building.  
Maka… Soul didn’t need to say much more, although the call of her name did snap the girl out of her reverie. Both knew however terrible the cabin seemed to loom before them, they needed to investigate inside to complete their mission. With soft, careful footsteps Maka tread forward, crossing the small strip of land that surrounded the cabin, erie in its lack of carnage. When she finally reached the front stoop and came to the door, Maka softly tapped it with the end of Soul and it easily swung open, having never been properly closed in the first place. A wave of nausea hit Maka as she saw what lay beyond; two children, not possibly older than seven, lay crumpled together against a back corner, locked forever in a terrified cower. And just in front of them lay a battered older woman, her chest ripped open like all the rest. She slumped against a wall, a slash mark cutting from rib to shoulder appearing to be the wound that had crippled her into submission. It was obvious that she had tried to protect the children; her mouth was twisted in a snarl and fierce canines were prominent, as if still seeking blood in death.  
Maka spotted a blood flecked mirror off to the right of the hall, and moved to call Lord Death on it to report their findings. Before she could take more than a step, her progress was halted by an unearthly wail, filled with pain and anger and sorrow.  
Maka! Soul urged, his face appearing in the blade of his scythe, We have to move, now. If whatever slaughtered these things here is back now, we need the element of surprise.  
The meister nodded quickly and nearly scrambled from the cabin, happy to be away from the smell of inclosed carnage. She quickly found a suitable hiding spot behind a large evergreen, far enough away that she would have a notice if something came after her, but close enough to attack at any moment. Both Soul and Maka watched with shallow, uneven breath as the figure of a young girl stepped into view. She looked so confused, standing in the middle of all of the destruction, numb to anything and everything around her, that Maka started to shift in her hiding place, ready to confront her and perhaps comfort her.  
What the hell are you doing? Soul hissed softly, We don’t know if that’s who killed everyone here or not. It’s stupid to just approach her.  
The figure had already entered the cabin when Maka replied, “I don't think it is, Soul. I think she, whatever she is, is one of them.” Maka stood fully then, releasing some of the tension from her crouched position, “But don’t transform back. We need to go into this ready for a fight.” Soul just nodded soberly and steadied himself, mentally preparing to fight.  
Maka left their hiding place then, her grip on her partner tight, and started to slowly make her way back into the clearing and to the cabin. The wind ruffled her pigtails softly, drawing them forward in a slow, teasing manner. The wind died down into nothing, leaving the air strangely quiet; there were no chitters or chirps of wild animals to add their sound, so all that either of them could hear was Maka’s soft footsteps, dulled against hard packed dirt.  
Suddenly, the figure of the girl reappeared in the doorway, eyes glowing dark amber, skin tanned and feet soaked in blood.  
Maka blushed as Soul coughed and looked away; in the midst of their squabbling, they had missed a very important fact-she was naked. Maka opened her mouth to try to speak to the girl, but the other spoke first, her voice far too deep and gravelly for any girl.  
You come here and slaughter my pack, she angrily growled, stepping slowly down the porch steps, leaving bloody footprints in her wake. You killed the pups, the Alpha, everyone. But you have misstepped; your death will come from my my fangs. She lept at the final word and the pair watched in horrified fascination as her skin began to pull and twist, her bones reshaping themselves into something new. When she stood not seven feet from them, the young girl had now become some sort of beast; her mouth had become elongated and filled with sharp canines, while her spine hunched over, bringing her head down to squarely lock gazes with them. She still stood on two legs, but her hind legs weren't human, they bent and flexed wrong, almost as if they were part dog.  
Before either Maka or Soul could consider much more than that, the beast-girl was on them, swinging her claw tipped arms with a blind rage. Maka blocked easily, but was buffeted back by the sheer intensity of the blow.   
We have to end this, quickly! Soul shouted, noting the preparation for a second attack. Maka nodded, watching for an opening to strike. Her opportunity came quickly, as she was charged head on by the beast-girl. She managed to smash the flat of Soul’s blade into her muzzle, which disoriented her. Maka watched her stagger around, barely catching herself from falling to the ground with a front claw. The beast-girl managed to right herself enough for another charge at the weapon meister pair, but this time they were more than a match for her disoriented state. As her opponent passed, Maka slammed the back of Soul’s handle into the base of her skull, knocking her unconscious and sending her crumpling to the ground.  
Maka panted softly, her breath coming out in soft gasps, as her adrenaline filled fight instincts began to drain out of her. Soul transformed back, coming to stand just behind her left shoulder.  
“What should we do with it?” he wondered aloud, absentmindedly kicking a clod of soft dirt towards the prone form. It didn't stirr.   
“Lord Death didn’t send us here to kill anyone; I doubt her name’s on the list.” Maka reasoned, mostly trying to puzzle out an answer for herself. She turned to Soul. “I saw a mirror hanging in the entryway of that cabin; we can call Lord Death and ask him what he wants us to do next.”  
Soul nodded in affirmative and the two returned to the cabin, both keeping a close eye on the unconscious body for any sudden movements. With none forthcoming, the pair struggled to retrieve the mirror from the front hall and out into the open air, away from the cloying scent of blood. After wiping down the worst of the stains from the mirror, Maka puffed out her breath, clouding the surface of the mirror.  
“42-42-564, whenever you want to knock on Death’s door,” Maka muttered under her breath, tracing out the number with her finger. The mirror shimmered softly and the connection went through, showing a steadily clearing image of the Death Room.  
“Hi, heya, hello!” Death bounced into view, his form swaying in the mirror’s view. “How’s the mission going?”  
“Well sir, that’s what we were contacting you about,” Maka gestured helplessly behind her, to the scene of death and blood and an unconscious thing, words failing to describe her situation. Where Maka’s extensive vocabulary failed her, Soul’s concise one stepped in to fill Lord Death in on the horror scene they found. The Reaper nodded as the story unfolded, seeming unfazed until he heard about the young girl they had encountered.  
“Oh-ho? Well, that is unusual,” he mused, bringing an overly large hand to an approximate of where his chin would be, rubbing thoughtfully. Suddenly, a thought struck him as he raised his hand in triumph, curling the hand into a fist and dropping it onto the other.   
“That’s what we’ll do!” he cried out excitedly, much to the confusion of the two students. Maka was the first to speak.  
“What is it, sir? What will we do?” she asked, not following his train of thought.  
The Reaper reached out and tapped the glass in front of him, changing the spell so that Maka and Soul could no longer see the Death Room through the shimmering opacity of the glass, but so that it was now ready for travel. “Why, bring her here of course!” his voice came through across the connection even though they couldn’t see his body. “I’ve connected that mirror there with this one here in the Death Room. All you need to do is get her through and we’ll question here back here; you two have done a good job there, but it seems that you’ve exhausted all of your options in the field.” He paused for a moment, and Soul opened his mouth to say something to Maka, only to be cut off by Death’s final instructions. “I’d assume she isn't going to be unconscious for long. You two should hurry before she wakes up.”  
With that, the mirror went completely silent, leaving Maka and Soul alone with an unconscious beast-girl. Soul just glanced over to his meister and shrugged, walking over to the prone form and hefting it; she was heavy enough, but it wouldn't be cool if he couldn’t carry a girl, even if she was some sort of animal thing, Soul thought absently. Maka watched closely, ready to move in an instant as her partner carried the dangerously unpredictable beast-girl to the mirror. Still, she didn’t stir. As Maka watched Soul step through the mirror, Maka breathed a sigh of relief and followed quickly after. Another mission down...


End file.
